


See

by Enchantable



Series: Senses [1]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Drift Side Effects, F/M, Japanese Rope Bondage, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-17
Updated: 2013-08-17
Packaged: 2017-12-23 19:50:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/930394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enchantable/pseuds/Enchantable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The hardest R.A.B.I.T.'s not to chase are the ones you want to</p>
            </blockquote>





	See

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: How about when Raleigh and Mako drift, they both see each others fantasies? like they both feel kinda awkward, but more than that they're like really excited by them too, and they both know it.

"Close your eyes," he breathes his voice low and firm.

She complies. In his head he can feel the way she does. How it feels when his hands guide her arms back. How the rope glides along her skin, pining her hands behind her back. His fingers linger on her skin as he winds the rope around her flesh. He’s more skilled than she would have thought, and the fact that he can do this with such skill makes heat pool low and fast in her stomach.

don’t chase the rabbit. Don’t chase the rabbit. Don’t don’t don’t—

His fingers tighten on the arm of his chair as he fights to keep his mind blank. Not on the fact that the blue black of the ropes matches her hair. He knows how strong she is, how unbreakable. So the fact that she trusts him enough to let him do this makes him hard for an entirely different reason. His fingers bury in her hair, tilting her head to the side as he kisses her roughly. 

He’s still kissing her when it shifts. Mako glances at the smooth leather of the seats and the fact that the windows are down. She catches a glimpse of the lake in front of the car but Raleigh’s hips move up and she’s kissing him roughly, the skin of her thighs tightening around the worn denim of his jeans. 

There’s something rougher to his fantasy but it makes her just as hot. Especially when his hands slip underneath the thin camisole she wears and trace the lines of her spine. Her lips brush against the stubble on his chin and the mark on his lip. 

"Mako," he groans her name and she feels the word come from her own throat. 

Your soul is bared in the drift. It isn’t just that he can see her fantasy he can feel it. He can feel what she does when he winds ropes around her skin and steals her precious control. Just like she can feel what he does when he thinks of taking her to the place where all the teenagers used to go make out and does so much more. She understands the ache he feels when he thinks about it. Just as he understands what she thinks of when her hands slide between her legs. 

Sometimes he thinks it was easier when the only thing they bore was the nightmares.

It isn’t like they don’t acknowledge their attraction. He couldn’t hide what he feels even if he wanted too. When they’re connected he has no doubt his feelings are reciprocated. But when they’re out there things are different. They’re heroes. They’re watched like hawks. Mako’s tight control pushes against his recklessness. And always it feels like Stacker is watching. Over them, judging him, the man is a ghost and he feels impossibly real.

Mako wants him to be real, he knows that. She wants to open the door and have him on the other side, his confidence making everything alright again. He knows that, he respects that. He still can’t sleep on a bottom bunk because he knows no matter whose above him he’ll want it to be Yancy and it never will be. 

He tries not to focus on those memories and pull her towards them. Mako’s abilities get better in leaps and bounds, but she’s still tempted by certain memories. Raleigh tries to compensate by being even looser in the drift than he used to be, by pushing his own rabbits away because they’re all tempted by them. 

Theres a rush and suddenly it’s a combination of their fantasies. The black ropes twist her wrists up, tying them to the headboard of his old bed. His jeans are thrown to the side and the smell of fresh grass wars with some kind of incense. He throws one of her legs over his shoulder and she cries out, her fingers tightening in the black rope. 

"Mako," he groans her name as she tightens around him, her eyes squeezed shut, "fuck, Mako," he swears when her eyes open hazily and lock with his. 

The drift fades too fast.

He’s gasping unsteadily his heart racing. In his comm link he can hear Mako doing the same, fighting for her precious control. His entire body is aching, especially a certain part of it but all he can think of is getting Mako out of there. He hits the release for the rig and unlocks his feet, crossing the distance to her rig. He releases her and her knees buckle.

"It’s okay," he says settling her on the ground, unwilling to let her go, "you’re okay."

Except she isn’t, not really. the soft gasps escaping her lips are punctuated with something more. He glares when the crew comes in and guides her past them. Something protective is kicked into overdrive, but it’s possessive as well. No-one gets to see her like this but him. He keeps an arm around her as he gets them both back to their rooms. Still across the hall from each other but the distance gets a little more unbearable every time. 

She’s breathing more steadily by the time they get there and when she slowly moves away he lets her. She closes her eyes and puts a hand against the wall to steady herself. He tries not to feel anything at the thought she would prefer the wall to him. he’s just thankful it’s easier to get out of the armor now.

"Mako," he says her name but the sound is hoarse.

"I’m sorry," she says quietly, her voice tight, "thank you for walking me back."

"It’s part of the drift," he says before she can run, "you show everything," she grits her teeth, "you have no control."

"That is not fair," she says quietly, her voice full of anger, "I have control—"

"Not in there," he cuts off and she turns around to face him, "If you try for control in there you’re going to get lost. And out here—" he shakes his head, "out here none of us have control, we just think we do."

"I do," she says.

"No," he shoots back, "and all you want is someone to tell you it’s alright for you not to always be in control."

Her features tighten and he steps forward, invading her personal space just a little. Then a little more. Her back presses to the wall but he knows she isn’t trying to shrink away from him. She’s holding herself there. He steps forward again until he’s close enough for his breath to hit her skin. 

"Not having control doesn’t make you less of a person," he tells her, "it makes you human."

"I need to be a fixed point," she says looking up at him,

"No," he says and his gaze softens, "you need to be my co-pilot."

She looks up at him for a moment, so unsure and so raw it steals his breath away. People think of her and Stacker in the same breath, or they do when they look at her. But she is not a Marshall, she is not their fixed point or their leader or their symbol of a survivor. She is Mako and he’s going beat the shit out of anyone who makes her think that isn’t enough. 

Except the person who thinks it isn’t enough the most is her, and he sure as hell isn’t going to beat her. Before he knows what he’s doing he’s reached down and grasped her wrists. Her eyes widen and he knows this is the first time one of them has dared drag something out of the drift. she glances down to his hands and then up to his face. Their eyes remained locked as he pulls her wrists up and pins them above her head. She can end this at any time, but she makes no move to. 

She’s still as he ducks his head and closes his lips over hers. For a moment it feels like he’s kissing a doll. Then she softens underneath him, her lips parting as he deepens the kiss. Her legs move and before he knows it he’s come forward, pinning her to the wall with his hips, one of his legs pressing between hers. She flexes her wrists but he holds them there. 

"Raleigh," she groans as he drags his lips away and then presses them against hers fiercely again. 

He tells her everything he can’t with his words. That what he’s seen in the dark corners of her mind doesn’t scare him, that he’s sorry for the times he’s fallen for the controlled facade she puts up for the world. That he’s right there, that she doesn’t have to be the little girl standing alone anymore.

they break apart and he looks down at her. His suit is definitely too tight, especially in one particular area. He can see sweat beading her temple. He wants to make every fantasy true but he knows that it isn’t time. Not yet. He gives her one last kiss that borders on chaste before releasing one wrist and shifting the other so they’re holding hands.

"Come on," he says, "it’s easier to get out of these with another pair of hands." 

They make quick work of the suites and the armor. Each has extra clothing in the others room for times like this. He feels marginally better but he knows he should go before he asks for something neither of them need at the moment. He heads for the door when Mako calls his name.

"What kind of car was it?" She asks him.

"Just an American muscle car," he says.

She nods her head before going into a drawer and pulling something out. His eyes widen before he quickly smoothes out her expression. She holds out a hand and he accepts what she gives him, acknowledging it with a curt nod because speaking isn’t really going to happen at the moment. But she seems to get it as she opens the door for him. 

When he’s taken care of himself and is sitting on the bed he untangles the black cotton rope and lets his mind go blank so his fingers will remember the knots from the drift.


End file.
